


breathing at night

by Iris_Duncan_72



Series: no rest for the wicked [5]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, M/M, Nightmares, bad memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Duncan_72/pseuds/Iris_Duncan_72
Summary: When Jisung's nightmares threaten to drive him mad, Felix offers a different method of distraction.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Felix
Series: no rest for the wicked [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1399690
Comments: 17
Kudos: 100





	breathing at night

**Author's Note:**

> they make out and are vaguely angsty. the end.

_‘You pathetic waste.’_

_The wall is hard against Jisung’s back._

_‘You really can’t fucking accept what you are?’_

_The knife between his ribs twists, catching on bone, and Jisung gasps as white-hot pain threatens to shove him into unconsciousness._

_‘You feel like you have to come back and kill me to give your feeble life some sense of meaning?’_

_His brother’s eyes dig into his skull, derisive and hateful._

_‘Don’t hurt me,’ Jisung pleads, much too little, much too late._

_The face sneering at him is so similar to their father’s, everyone commented on it, and it’s like he’s there too, killing Jisung through the hand of his eldest son._

_‘I don’t understand why you were ever –’_

Jisung shot up as though electrocuted, the choked remnants of a cry rattling in his throat, and he skittered away, _away_ , till his back thudded into the metal bars of a headboard ( _not a wall, not a wall, not a wall_ ). He had a knife clutched in his hand, sweat-slick fingers perfectly balanced on the hilt, didn’t know when he’d picked it up, where it came from, didn’t matter –

He saw a whisper of movement through the shadowy haze clouding his vision and lashed out without hesitation, the blade slicing through the air towards his unknown target – until it came to a sudden halt, a rough hand clamped around his wrist.

‘Jisung.’

He flinched, ripping his arm out of the vice grip and hissing between clenched teeth when he knocked his elbow against one of the metal struts behind him.

‘You’re safe. I’m here.’

Perspiration dripped down his temples and he blinked hard, trying to bring everything into focus. Snowy hair caught his attention and held it.

‘You’re s–’

 _‘Don’t say it,’_ Jisung spat, his voice a vicious rasp. ‘I’m not safe, I’m _never_ safe. He’s – he’s in my _head.’_

‘He’s an echo and no matter how loudly an echo screams, it can’t touch you.’ Plush lips set in a firm line and dark eyes narrowed. Snowy hair. Ice cream hair. ‘And if he comes back from the dead today or tomorrow or next year, you’ll tear him to pieces before he lays a single finger on you.’

Jisung huffed a laugh that could have been a breathless sob in disguise, closing his eyes for the half-second his seething paranoia could bear it. ‘Last time I lifted a knife against my brother,’ he said bitterly, ‘I ended up pinned to a wall like a fucking butterfly.’

If it hadn’t been for Seungmin, Jisung would have died on that wall. Even to the last and despite everything, _everything_ , he hadn’t been able to beat his brother and _that_ was why his nightmares kept coming back to their final encounter. Jisung had a whole childhood of awful memories for his subconscious to draw on but they all paled in comparison to the last one because that was the first time _he’d_ taken the fight to his brother. It was the first time Jisung had met his brother toe-to-toe instead of as a small, terrified child – but it turned out he’d still been _weak_. Jisung had thought he could be strong enough to win, to destroy the man who’d made his first sixteen years of life utter hell and he’d been wrong.

Han Jihyun had been cold and dead for over a decade but he was still Jisung’s biggest nightmare.

Felix scoffed, jarring Jisung out of his derailing mental spiral. ‘What am I, chopped liver?’ he demanded, tone too angry to achieve his usual dry humour. ‘I’d break every bone in his body and rip his tongue out, then turn him over to you.’

Jisung shuddered, every muscle in his body taut as a wire, and the knife wavered, glinting in the light of the bedside lamp. ‘So romantic,’ he muttered, aiming for sardonic and missing by a mile or ten.

Felix shifted from his knees to a cross-legged position on the end of the bed. Tension coiled visibly in his heavy frame, his eyes black holes for Jisung to drown himself in. ‘You know you’d do the same for me.’

He wasn’t wrong about that, but Jisung kept his mouth shut, letting Felix take his silence as acceptance.

As Jisung’s pulse finally started to slow its frantic sprint, his knuckles ached from squeezing the handle of the blade so tightly and his empty hand pawed the air for something solid to hang onto, the bedframe unsatisfying, the sheet flimsy. He saw Felix’s sharp stare zero in on the action. No offer came. Felix knew better than to try that again.

It took an interminable length of time where every second stretched out excruciatingly long, but eventually Jisung thrust his hand towards Felix, nostrils flared as fought back the voice of hard-won experience in his mind which snarled at him to never ask for help, never betray any weakness. That voice hadn’t realised yet that it was much too late to try and throw up a mask. Felix had pulled them all down ages ago and as soon as his hand closed around Jisung’s, fingers threading together and gripping with restrained, implacable strength, the voice was drowned out by a gut-deep punch of relief and Jisung took his first deep breath since he’d ripped himself out of the nightmare.

‘Did I wake you?’ he asked quietly.

‘I was meditating,’ Felix said and Jisung winced.

He’d learned a number of interesting things about Felix over the past eight months, including the fact that Felix avoided fast-paced, bass-heavy music like the plague because it reminded him of when he’d been locked in a cage, fighting other children to near-death. Meditation was another of the secrets he’d let Jisung in on, the skill one he’d been practising for a few years in an effort to control his anger. Jisung had been astounded the first time he’d seen Felix sit cross-legged on the floor, shut his eyes, and not move for two hours. _He_ couldn’t do that for more than thirty seconds on a good day without crawling out of his skin.

‘Oh, well.’ Jisung cleared his throat, a sticky mess of _regret-shame-apology_ clogging his chest. ‘You can go back to that if you want.’

When he made no move to release the hand in his, however, the pinched corners of Felix’s mouth relaxed, some of the tension leeching out of his stiff shoulders.

‘And are you going back to sleep?’ Felix spoke like he already knew the answer, which he did, and Jisung scowled.

‘I was gonna do a perimeter sweep, then target practise,’ he admitted grudgingly.

Felix cocked his head, a thoughtful, calculating look stealing across his face. ‘How about a different distraction?’ he suggested, gaze dipping briefly to Jisung’s mouth and climbing up again ever so slowly.

Jisung’s gut clenched with something a few degrees hotter than the cold residue of his nightmare and his exhalation was just a touch unsteady.

‘If you’re up for it.’

Felix wet his lower lip, historically a deliberate act of temptation but his eyes were clear of cloying shadow and hidden intent. It was a challenge instead of a seduction because Felix had learned just as much about Jisung over the last two thirds of a year as Jisung had about him.

They stared at each other from either end of the bed, the space between them humming with an electric charge that threatened to burn and bite. But that didn’t scare Jisung tonight and he reached for Felix with his free hand –

Only to freeze when Felix stilled, arching a brow.

‘Do you want to put down the knife first?’

 _Oh, shit_.

He’d forgotten about that. It took him a second, but with another careful, deep breath, Jisung managed to uncurl his fingers and let the blade fall onto the rumpled sheets. He looked back up at Felix, silently asking permission, seeking approval. Not something Jisung did regularly even with Felix, but when it came to physical contact? Always.

Felix relaxed and he tugged lightly on their handclasp, permission granted. Jisung crawled forward on his knees, leaving a whisper of space between them as he skimmed the fingertips of his free hand over the arch of Felix’s cheekbone. They started gradually, as usual. Any rush had the potential to jar Jisung’s hair-trigger instincts and send him running for the hills – or the other side of the room, at least.

Tonight had not been one which included them sharing a bed. Those were still uncommon, occurring sometimes twice a week, sometimes twice a month. Jisung and Felix had been together a lot over the past half year or so, various jobs never drawing them too far from each other’s orbit, but they still had their particularly bad nights. On those occasions, one of them (usually Jisung) simply packed up and left whichever apartment, house, hotel, or bolthole they were staying at, unable to tolerate having someone so close while they were in such a vulnerable state. Those nights, the really bad ones, were happening much less frequently now. Tonight, they’d set up in adjacent rooms.

But these were not the thoughts on Jisung’s mind right now, his attention hyper-focused on the man sitting so still and quiescent before him.

Closing his eyes, Felix leaned his head slightly into the touch as Jisung traced the familiar lines of his face. He followed the curve of Felix’s brow, thumbed gently at the corner of Felix’s mouth, traced the shell of Felix’s ear with his forefinger. The calluses on his fingers scraping over soft skin, Jisung spread his hand under Felix’s jaw and saw Felix watching him from beneath heavy lids, long lashes doing little to hide the simmering weight of his gaze. Very slowly, Jisung leaned towards him, pausing when the tips of their noses nudged alongside each other. Felix waited but his heartrate jumped, giving him away, and Jisung smiled, only then closing the final distance between them.

The kiss was warm and dry, an extended moment of peace with closed mouths pressed together. Then Jisung sighed, lips parting just barely as he drew back to place a kiss at both corners of the lush mouth under his. Felix stirred, hand tightening around Jisung’s, but he stayed where he was, allowing the soft touches. Keeping his thumb on Felix’s quickening pulse, Jisung splayed his hand, fingers pushing into short white-blond hair as he tipped Felix’s head further to one side before leaning in for another kiss.

Felix groaned softly, the sound one of utter satisfaction, and it sparked against Jisung’s bones. He tightened his grip on the hair between his fingers, encouraging Felix to stay in place as Jisung nipped at his lower lip, then traced it with the tip of his tongue, tasting. A shudder rippled through Felix, his breath puffing hot and damp over Jisung’s face, and Jisung broke the kiss, tipping their foreheads together as he rose up to straddle Felix. His knees pressed heavily into the mattress on either side of Felix’s hips and Felix stared up at him with a hunger that threatened to devour. Jisung’s heart, already pounding like a drum, skipped a beat when a careful hand curved around his waist.

‘Talk to me,’ he breathed, aware he was breaking routine. ‘What’s going on in your head when you look at me like that?’

Felix’s thumb rubbed in slow circles on the back of Jisung’s hand, both soothing and distracting. ‘Even like this,’ he murmured, the baritone of his voice rumbling through them both, ‘you could kill me with ease. Beautiful, relaxed, all mine... and deadly.’

It was Jisung’s turn to shiver, skin prickling with a rush of molten heat. Somehow, Felix managed to simultaneously satisfy Jisung’s feral instincts and stroke his ego till he wanted to preen. Truly, he was the greatest threat Jisung had ever faced.

‘So possessive,’ he muttered, pressing a kiss to Felix’s mouth, and another, and another.

A huff of laughter against his lips. ‘Look who’s talking.’

Jisung grinned and there were no more words for a time, his attention wholly turned to the task of kissing Felix senseless. It became a competition, like it always did, because neither of them had ever gone into something without intending to win. They’d had plenty of practise finding each other’s weaknesses so victory was never assured. Jisung knew Felix liked having his hair played with and Felix knew that Jisung lost the ability to think when he scraped his teeth over Jisung’s lips.

If someone had approached Jisung a year ago and told him he’d one day be willingly sitting in Lee Felix’s lap, sloppily making out with him, he’d have laughed himself stupid. But here they were, the impossible made real and tangible. Lust was not an entirely unfamiliar experience for Jisung, he’d felt flashes of it in response to this person or that one over the years, but he’d never acted on it, never done anything more than distantly acknowledge its existence. Utterly unable to stand the idea of having someone so close to him, their hands roaming his skin, there hadn’t really been any other option. Besides, he’d had other things to think about.

So this was new to him. Every time Jisung allowed Felix to touch him, every time Felix invited his touch, it was a shot of adrenaline straight into his bloodstream. A heady rush of more emotions than he could name, grounded by the underlying bedrock of sweet, sweet trust. The type of danger that came with this kind of touch was one he could handle, one he relished in tangling with.

They’d broken their handclasp at some point, both of Jisung’s hands buried in Felix’s hair, Felix’s free hand a scalding brand pressed flat against the small of Jisung’s back over his t-shirt. All of a sudden, it wasn’t enough. Jisung wanted more.

Loathe to break contact for even a moment, he mumbled between kisses, ‘Want you – to take – off – your shirt.’

Their lips parting with a sticky sound, Felix pulled back, panting for breath. His pupils were huge, swallowing his irises, and surprise was visible in the slight raise of his brows. ‘Really? You – are you sure?’

Bumping the tip of his nose against Felix’s in a disgustingly tender movement, Jisung hummed his assent. ‘No rush, if you don’t want to.’

Felix swallowed, his grip on Jisung’s waist tightening briefly. ‘You know I’ve got – scars.’

Jisung nodded. ‘I do.’ He didn’t state the obvious, that Felix had never been shy about his scars before.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Felix jerked his chin down. ‘Okay. Okay.’

His hands went to the hem of his shirt but Jisung covered them with his own before he could pull it up. Felix blinked at him in askance and Jisung offered a small, genuine smile.

‘This is meant to be something we both enjoy, snowflake. How about you just lie back and let me do all the work?’

Pursing his lips, Felix considered this for a moment, then nodded again. He chivvied Jisung off his lap, confusing him until Jisung realised Felix had taken his suggestion literally. Sliding off to one side, Jisung watched with wide eyes as Felix crawled around him and rolled onto his back, propped up by the pillow. He kept his knees up, parted with space for Jisung, and oh hell, Jisung had severely underestimated the ramifications of this.

Before Jisung could start hyperventilating, Felix zeroed in on the blade still lying on the rumpled sheet near his hip. ‘We’re not doing this with a knife in the bed, Jisung.’

Blinking out of his reverie, Jisung reached over and grabbed the knife. He contemplated dropping it over the side of the bed for a split second, but swiftly decided against it as an alternate option presented itself. Keeping his gaze locked on Felix’s, he slotted himself between Felix’s thighs, braced one hand by Felix’s ribs, and blindly stabbed the blade into the wall above the headboard, sinking it in several inches.

‘There we go,’ Jisung purred. ‘No more knife in bed.’

Felix arched one brow. ‘You could have punctured a pipe.’

Jisung smirked down at him. ‘But it was hot, right?’

Lashes fluttering down as he sighed, Felix reluctantly conceded, ‘Yes, it was hot.’

Satisfied, Jisung lowered himself onto his elbows, forcing Felix’s legs wider to accommodate him, but maintained a scrupulous sliver of space between them. They were both tense now and it would be all too easy to push this too far too fast. So Jisung started with what was familiar, shifting his weight forward and lowering his head till he could catch Felix’s mouth in a kiss. It didn’t take Felix long to melt into the touch, his hands returning to their rightful place bracketing Jisung’s waist, and soon they were right where they’d left off, almost stiflingly warm and sticky, breathing the same air.

Only then did Jisung roll onto one elbow, his right hand sliding down Felix’s side and coming to a halt where the soft cotton shirt gave way to well-worn sweatpants. Felix shifted slightly but stayed relaxed and Jisung nudged the hem up, sliding his fingertips over the heated skin that lay beneath. Muscles jumped and trembled under his touch as Felix released the most outrageously sinful moan Jisung had ever heard. It set his blood on fire and when Felix’s hands clenched tight around his waist, Jisung’s only thought was _harder_. He pushed the shirt further up, pressing his palm flat against Felix’s taut belly, stroking, caressing.

‘Nails okay?’ he managed to ask between one kiss and the next.

‘Go lightly,’ Felix groaned, a truly dishevelled look about him, his thumbs rubbing compulsive circles on Jisung’s ribs.

Jisung took the condition to heart, scraping his nails gently over smooth skin, the touch turning feather-light when he ran into the distinct ridge of an old scar. Felix shivered but Jisung judged at least some of the renewed tension to be of a good sort, so he didn’t stop, ghosting his fingertips a little higher. In retaliation, Felix sank his teeth into Jisung’s lower lip, tugging at the pliant flesh until it was Jisung’s turn to be embarrassingly loud, a breathy whine escaping him as the fire in his gut swirled and grew. Felix’s satisfied hum vibrated through them both and his powerful shoulders shifted, muscles bunching and releasing like he was considering reversing their positions. Awareness at the vulnerability of his pose, Felix’s thighs flexing against his hips, prickled Jisung’s nape but he pushed through it – Felix was in just as vulnerable a state.

Trailing kisses down from Felix’s mouth along the line of his jaw, Jisung pressed his hand harder against Felix’s abdomen and murmured, ‘I want to put my mouth here. That gonna be a problem?’

All the breath rushed out of Felix on an unsteady exhalation and he hissed, ‘I need to cut out your fucking tongue.’

Laughter bubbled up unexpectedly, the simmering heat softened by an edge of affection, and Jisung lifted his head so they were eye to eye. ‘You can go ahead and try, snowflake, but I think you’d miss it. Plus, then it’d be on _you_ to do all the talking and somehow I don’t think that would go down too well.’

Felix scowled. ‘Shut up and get on with it.’

Jisung grinned at the acquiescence and promptly crawled backwards. He glanced down at the bared skin of Felix’s abdomen and had to swallow down a sudden excess of saliva in his mouth. With a level of care approaching fucking _reverence_ , Jisung skimmed his nose over Felix’s navel, inhaling the intoxicating scent of heat and sweat and Felix, before selecting a swathe of smooth skin and pressing his mouth to it in an open-mouthed kiss. Felix shuddered under him and when Jisung swirled his tongue, he made a sound like he’d been kicked in the chest, hands clenching in the sheets on either side of Jisung’s head.

It was gratifying, to say the least, to know that he could have such an effect on Felix, especially given that Jisung had never practised any techniques, hadn’t done any research on this topic. Maybe he should’ve when it’d become obvious that having a physical relationship with his darling, aggravating snowflake wasn’t off the cards, but what did Jisung care about other people’s experiences? Felix was hardly a virgin, he’d no doubt fallen in bed with others in the past, but he was as new to Jisung as Jisung was to him. No-one could dictate where their hunger for each other would lead them and Jisung had zero interest in being guided by anyone except his own whims and Felix himself. Jisung refused to invite anyone else into their bed, no matter how faintly, how obscurely. He was possessive like that and if the way Felix was biting off his curses was anything to go, he was more than appreciative of Jisung’s efforts, so _there_.

‘You taste good, snowflake,’ Jisung said hoarsely, lifting his head as he paused for breath.

Of course, he promptly lost that breath again as he looked up the length of Felix’s body. That view should be made illegal _immediately_ and extra illegal for anyone who wasn’t Jisung. Felix’s chest rose and fell haphazardly, his reddened lips parted as he panted, sweat a fine sheen on his skin, and the veins in his arms bulging from the force of his white-knuckled grip on the bedclothes. It was tempting, oh, so very tempting, to tell Felix he could touch too, but Jisung was horny, not lobotomised – one brush of those steel-strong fingers on his nape, his head, and this would be over. For now, they had to play it safe.

‘Fuck you,’ was the rough response, Felix’s eyes ablaze.

Jisung laughed and busied himself painting a picture in saliva and kiss-bruises across Felix’s torso. When he ran out of blank space, he shoved Felix’s t-shirt up higher, pausing intermittently when Felix demanded Jisung kiss him or face an increasingly creative list of torturous deaths.

There was a particularly nasty mess of scar tissue sprawled over Felix’s left pectoral, like his upper ribs or sternum had once been broken so badly they’d ripped open his chest, and he froze at the first touch of Jisung’s mouth to the raised flesh. It was a stillness that preceded the explosive movement and decisive action of bone-deep instinct, and Jisung withdrew at once, breathing heavily. He was not the only one here with old nightmares shadowing his every move, ready to pounce on an instant’s weakness, and as he flicked his gaze up to Felix’s face, he saw a familiar stony façade, the tendons in Felix’s neck popping for a reason other than pleasure.

‘Done already?’ Jisung asked, his tone one of forced lightness.

Felix grunted low in his throat but when his eyes remained distant, Jisung tensed his arms to push himself up and move out of Felix’s space. He was forestalled almost immediately as Felix’s hands detached from the abused sheets and latched onto Jisung’s wrists, tight but not binding. Jisung waited, pulse slowing and the heat in his blood cooling as he watched Felix unwaveringly, alert for any change in his expression.

It was nearly five minutes later that Felix blinked hard, his gaze clearing, and bit out, ‘Fuck.’

Jisung rocked back onto his knees, not breaking Felix’s hold on his wrists. ‘I think that’s enough distraction for one night.’

Felix scowled, clearly taking affront. ‘I can keep going.’

‘Oh yeah? Well, I can’t,’ Jisung countered bluntly. ‘I’ll feel like I’m forcing myself on you, like –’

_Like my brother._

His brother, who had never asked, only taken. Jisung would cut his hands off with a blunt knife before he’d ever take a single step down that path.

Felix’s expression darkened further but he said nothing more, releasing Jisung and rolling over so he could get off the bed. The thin fabric of his t-shirt fell back into place, hiding Felix’s battered torso from view, and Jisung’s heart clenched tight in his chest, mourning the warm, playful atmosphere of only minutes before. He was still absolutely miserable at effective communication on the topic of emotions but he was loath to let Felix leave like this so he had to _try_.

‘How did you get that one?’

Halfway to the door, his back to Jisung, Felix paused. After a minute he said quietly, ‘Kid broke my ribs when I was thirteen. I couldn’t fight for seven weeks and – she almost starved, that time. Didn’t let it happen again.’ His hands were curled into fists at his sides, his shoulders taut.

Compassion, sympathy, sorrow, _empathy_ – these were not emotions Jisung was used to feeling and they made his skin itch unpleasantly. For Felix, though, he would bear them. Climbing off the bed, he padded around to where Felix stood as if carved from stone, rigid and unyielding. Jisung stepped in front of him and wasn’t deterred by the cold mask on that handsome face. Slowly, like he was approaching a skittish creature that might bolt without warning, he leaned in partway. Felix’s stare bore into him and Jisung withstood it, waiting for Felix to accept or reject his offer.

Eventually, Felix softened a mere fraction and tilted his head so their lips brushed. The whisper of sensation danced through Jisung, threatening to reawaken the hunger of before, but he ignored it, kissing Felix as softly as he knew how. It was a lure, a gift, a promise, and with it Jisung spelled out the words he couldn’t say. With every iteration, a little of the tension seeped out of Felix, until at last he responded in kind, his mouth firm and steady against Jisung’s.

They drew apart naturally and, emboldened by his success, Jisung whispered, ‘Thank you.’

_Thank you for sharing your stories with me._

_Thank you for letting me in._

_Thank you for choosing to be with me here and now._

Felix smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling. ‘See you in the morning, Jisung. Sleep well.’

Pressing an unbearably gentle kiss to Jisung’s forehead, Felix stepped past him and left the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

There were no more nightmares that night.


End file.
